


tout s'effondre quand tu n'es plus là  (everything collapses when you're not there)

by vapourinthesky



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: Dreams and Nightmares, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:48:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23282038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vapourinthesky/pseuds/vapourinthesky
Summary: Months after the events at the Opera Populaire, Christine and Raoul have fled to Sweden. There, their nights are plagued with nightmares. Waking up from one one night Christine finds herself alone and discovers that she's not the only one whose dreams are still haunted.
Relationships: Raoul de Chagny/Christine Daaé
Comments: 8
Kudos: 47





	1. a world with (no) more night

**Author's Note:**

> In this house we ignore LND's existence, just like God intented.

Her world was swimming in colours. Blues, pinks, purples, silvers twirling and blending around her as she danced. And amidst this colourful chaos a pair of eyes watching her; a pair of warm, smiling eyes, matching the sky blue of her bodice, taking in her every step, her every move, every joyous expression on her face. For she was happy there, holding the hussar's hands and twirling, her eyes locked in that soft starry night gazing back at her. She was laughing, and he was laughing too. A laugh so burbling, so warm, so beautiful- oh, how she loved his laugh!-, the most beautiful melody to ever reach her ears (and she had heard many all those years at the opera).

Suddenly, his laugh, this so beloved laugh, grew distant and the colours grew closer. Closer and closer and brighter and harsher, blending into a violent rainbow of horrid masquerade masks, fierce hues engulfing her. And she grew smaller and smaller. The tender hands had vanished from her holding. Her glittery skirt had taken their place in her palms. She was grasping the fine cloth so tightly, her fingers curled into fists clutching on the fabric for dear life. More and more masks came dancing around her face; a lion, a bear, a spider, a monkey. She searched among them frantically for those blue eyes, panic rising in her chest. She sought their warmth, their peace, their comfort. As paper faces of all shapes and colours were parading around her in a strange, fast rhythm, she longed for the real, handsome face she had been looking at seconds ago. She longed to hold it, to bury her hands into the sun-kissed hair on top, to lose herself in that loving gaze, to find some comfort in this multicoloured nightmare.

Alas! There was no charming face, no heartfelt laughter, no loving gaze in this vortex. Only masks. A wizard, a harlequin, a skeleton... A half-faced ivory mask. She felt chills in her bones, shivers rising up her spine. The white mask was flying towards her. Fast. She wanted to scream. She wanted to run. But, she couldn't move. She was pinned to the floor. The mask was fast, so fast that she had no time to react when it flew right past her face and knocked her down.

On the spur of the moment, the parade was over. The colours had vanished, giving their place to a haunted darkness. The only source of light was a spotlight illuminating a circle where she had fallen on the solid black floor as if she was centre stage at the opera again. Her princess dress was gone. The lovely pinks and blues, the shiny stars, the puffy sleeves and the gorgeous skirt she so loved to twirl had given way to a heavy white wedding dress. She could have loved it in another lifetime, she thought. It fit her nicely, its soft fabric, decorated with lace and elaborate embroideries, hugging her figure perfectly. But in this lifetime, she hated it. She hated its weight, a heaviness complemented by the long veil that had replaced her starry crown. She hated that she hadn't chosen it, she hated that she hadn't even chosen to wear it at that moment. She hated everything that dress implied.

A voice filled the darkness, a sweet voice singing the loveliest melody she'd ever heard. It was the most beautiful voice the world had ever heard, overflowing with notes she didn't even know existed until then, singing softly, gently, awaking something inside her, calling her name. She knew that voice. She hated that voice. No, she didn't. She just wished she did.

 _Click._ Another spotlight was on.

She turned to the direction of the sound and the newly illuminated sight knocked the wind out of her lungs. Raoul, her sweet sweet Raoul, was hanging from a pole, hidden in the dark, his feet barely touching the ground, a blood-red rope around his neck. She let out a scream so terrible as if her heart was the one screaming not her voice and instinctively covered her mouth with her hands. She wanted to go to him- nay, she wanted to run to him, to release him from this ropey chain, to hold him as tightly as she could and whisper sweet little nothings in his ear. She needed to feel his breath upon her cheeks, to hear his heart beat against her own, to tell him she loved him, to make him feel safe, to comfort him as he had always done for her. But, she couldn't. She was pinned to the floor, invisible chains holding her in place, unable to move, no matter how hard she tried to drag her feet in his direction. She was trapped beneath that burning spotlight. So, instead, she looks at him from afar, and the sight breaks her heart.

His hussar costume was now gone. In its place, a dirty white shirt falls loosely on his body, its leaves shredded and a hole ripped on its right side. His golden locks fell messy on his face, stained with sweat and dust. _Was that mud on his shoes?_ He looked pale, so pale it frightened her. His eyes, those deep blue eyes she so desperately longed to see only moments ago were now glazed. His laugh was gone- oh, the lengths she'd go to hear that beloved sound again! Life seemed to be draining out of his body, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. So, she watched. She fixed her eyes on him, forcing him to look back at her. Love and fear mingled in his eyes matching the feelings flooding her own heart.

She whispered his name under her breath, afraid of what would happen if she dared let it echo in that devastating darkness. Sobs hitched in her throat, fighting for release.

Abruptly, the voice that had died out, or at least she thought so- maybe the horrors unfolding before her had blocked it out of her mind-, that sweet mesmerising voice filled the air, singing louder. And louder. And louder. Singing to her. Calling for her. “I am your Angel of Music. Come to me, Angel of Music”. Loud music from an invisible organ filled the air, too, its notes taking up space on the notes the singer left untouched. And the voice grew louder and louder, surrounding her, closing up on her.

Part of her wanted to follow it, to give in to that strange sweet sound, to let go of all her worries, to get lost in the music. But another, stronger part of her, was overcome with fear. She wanted to scream. She wanted to flee. Dear God, she wanted to run, to grab that blond sailor boy by the hand and run, and run, and run, until they're far away, and never look back again.

The voice was closer now, so close, too close. It formed a suffocating dragnet around her. She succumbed to panic, sobs rising in her chest. She fell to her knees, clutching her eyes closed with her hands, desperately trying to shut out that haunting melody. A skeleton hand emerged from the shadows, reaching for her. She shut her eyes, trembling with fear. She could feel it close, ghosting her cheek. She wanted to scream. But, her voice was trapped inside her throat. She wanted to run. But, there was nowhere else to go.

A bony finger stroked her hair, sending shivers down her spine.

**_Bang!_ **

  
  


  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! This is my first attempt to write in this fandom, so any notes and comments are more than welcome! If all goes well, chapter 2 will be up tomorrow. Thanks for reading! :D


	2. and you always beside me (?)

Her eyes snapped right open. She brushed a few curls off her face, rubbing sleep off her eyes to take in the room around her. _Where was she? Was she still dreaming?_ She felt disoriented, half asleep half awake, unable to distinguish her surroundings.

A dresser caught her eyes first, right across the room. It was a big, heavy Gustavian piece of furniture with four drawers, its pinewood mass bare of any paint. _Her dresser._ There was no mirror hanging above it. There was no mirror on its surface between her few cosmetics either. _She hated mirrors._ Instead, there hung a window, a large wide window, covering the bare wall. Its shutters were hermetically shut keeping out the cold Swedish air. _Home. She was home._

_It was just a nightmare,_ she thought _. Another one, the same one, one of the many._

They had been both having them, Raoul and she. Visions of masks, of secret lairs, of deep dark lakes, mannequin brides, and candelabras. A horrid face was haunting their dreams. It'd been months since they had escaped from the underground horrors of the Opera Populaire, but their trauma lingered, taking frightening shapes in their dreams.

The sleepless nights had mostly stopped, mainly for Raoul, their first couple of months in Sweden. Yet, their dreams were never fully free from the Phantom's visits. Some nights it was she who woke up screaming and crying, and he would always be there to hold her in his arms, to place small kisses on her forehead, to whisper in her ear how much he loved her and how he imagined their future together. Other nights, the Angel would visit him, and he'd wake up drenched in sweat, gasping for air, hands clawing on his neck to free himself from an invisible lasso. It was her turn, then, to provide comfort, so she'd hug him tightly, one hand caressing his soft curls, and she'd tell him stories, just like when they were kids- yet the stories she would choose weren't dark anymore; they were sweet and tender, filled with hope, happiness, and love. The more months passed, the rarer these nights became for him, or at least Christine thought so.

It's on the nights the Ghost visited both their dreams that it got difficult. These nights they both stayed up, their fears lying bare between their heavy blankets. All lamps in their small bedroom were lit and still, the light was not enough. They held each other as tightly as they could, and they laid silent, bodies pressed close together, listening to each other's heartbeats. All night they lied awake like that, relishing in the warmth and comfort of their embrace.

It was that same comfort that Christine sought now too, to take her mind off that disturbing nightmare. She needed to feel safe. She rolled over to Raoul's side of the bed, reaching for that warmth, only to be met with the coldness of the mattress beside her. Cold sweat washed over her, her heartbeat got faster, her stomach turned. _Am I still dreaming?_ she thought. _Is this still that horrid nightmare I'm living in?_ She frantically tossed the sheets and blankets off the bed as if he would be hiding underneath as he used to all these lifetimes ago when they played hide-and-seek in that little house by the sea.

_No! No! No! He can't be gone!_ Fear flooded her senses, the world started spinning around her, sobs hitched at her throat. _He wouldn't leave me_ , she thought, desperately trying to calm her nerves. She repeated the phrase over and over to herself as if she was trying to convince her own mind. _He wouldn't go. He wouldn't leave me alone. He promised._ One love one lifetime, he had promised on that roof what felt like a lifetime ago. Each night each morning, he had renewed and sealed that promise in that small chapel by the Seine the day they fled France. _This is my mind playing tricks on me. He'd never leave. He promised._

_**Bang!**_ That awful sound again.

She froze. She sat up on the bed, her ears pricked up, listening... waiting... Silence. She got up and hastily put on her dressing gown, determined to find out where that sound was coming from and look for Raoul in the process, too. She had barely tied the lacy belt of her gown around her waist when-

_**Bang!**_ \- There it was again.

Her limbs were shaking. _What if someone has broken into our home? What if I'm still trapped inside that nightmare? What if He has somehow followed us here?_ She wanted to say His name, she wanted to call for her husband, but the words got lost before they left her mouth. She mastered all the courage she could find, took a big breath, and walked to the bedroom door. She was going to find out what was going on one way or another.

An idea flashed in her mind stopping her from turning the knob. She walked back to where her bedside table was and grabbed the heavy vase, removing and gently placing aside the lovely bouquet of hibiscus Raoul and she had picked in their morning walk. If someone had indeed violated their home, she'd better be prepared to face them.

She slowly opened the door and walked quietly, with little hesitant steps, down the small corridor.

_**Bang!** _

She jumped, suppressing a scream. Her knuckles turned white as she was clutching the glass vase as if her life depended on it. “Courage, Christine! We've faced worse”, she whispered to herself.

The view she beheld upon entering the living room made her heart stop. There were no phantoms, no intruders, just her Raoul sleeping on the couch. Relief washed over her, as she let out a deep breath. She put the vase down, careful not to make any noise, and moved closer. He looked so handsome when he slept- even more handsome than when he was awake and meticulously dressed. His golden curls spread messily on the armrest, the top button of his nightshirt was unbuttoned, revealing his bare collarbone underneath. A peaceful expression rested on his face. His body, however, was tense, even now that he was fast asleep. He was clutching her red scarf, bundled, on top of his chest, right above his heart, his knuckles white from the pressure. That red scarf, the personification of their relationship as she had come to think of it, had become a source of comfort for both of them these past few months. It reminded them of each other and of simpler, less troubling times.

The room was freezing cold. Christine grabbed a fluffy blanket from the nearby chair and gently threw it over Raoul, tucking him in.

_Why is he sleeping out here? What is troubling him?_

_**Bang!** _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, I'd love to hear your thoughts! I hope quarantine is treating you well.  
> The plan for the third and final chapter is to be posted tomorrow, but there's a small chance I'll be too busy to update since we're celebrating a national holiday in my country (although I don't know how we'll do that quarantined). So, if it's not up tomorrow, be sure I'll post it the day after.
> 
> Thanks again for reading! I hope you like it! :D


	3. to hold me and to hide me

Her heart jumped in her throat. She froze into place, holding her breath. Raoul didn't even stir. _Was she imagining all that banging?_

_**Bang!** _

She instinctively jumped around to the beat, her eyes searching to locate the source of that nightmarish sound.

_**Bang!** _

She had never felt sillier than she did in that moment. It was just the window shutters banging against the wind. She released a breath she was holding. Suddenly, her feet felt heavy. She was exhausted.

_**Bang!** _

Now that she knew where that sound was coming from, fear gave way to annoyance. _How could Raoul still be asleep with all that noise?_ She quietly walked to the window, careful not to wake him up- though she doubted anything could wake him when he was so deeply asleep. She barely managed to grab the shutters before they clashed against the windowsill again. She turned the latch and drew the heavy green curtains to keep out the buzz and darkness of the night.

She took a minute to calm down, to let relief settle inside her, and dragged her feet back to the couch, the hem of her nightgown tracing the thick carpet. She sat on the floor right next to the couch, her head resting on the armrest inches away from Raoul's face. She watched him sleep, focusing on his moving eyelids and the rising and falling of his chest.

_He's here. He's breathing. He's safe._

_But, why is he sleeping out here, alone? Why did he leave their wedding bed?_ The whispers she had heard around the Opera came into her mind, entangling with her own fears, giving birth to doubt. _Did he get bored with her at last? No, that couldn't be it. They'd spent too many years enjoying each other's company, she'd knew if something had changed in that regard. Maybe he had finally seen what everyone else back in Paris saw- that she wasn't good enough for a man of his rank and that she was the reason he lost everything. No, he never cared for such things, and he would never blame her. Had he grown tired of sharing all her fears and insecurities when he had his own heavy burden to carry?_

As if answering the questions troubling her mind, Raoul's breath became faster, sharper. His arms reached for his neck, pulling an invisible rope, fighting to get free. Before she had any time to react, before she had even managed to process what was happening, he jumped awake, a loud gasp leaving his throat. His eyes were fixed on the window, but she could see the cogwheels of his mind turning frantically, trying to recognise and adjust to his environment.

Christine looked at him worriedly. Every muscle in his body was tense, his right hand was grasping the couch underneath as if his life depended on it. He didn't seem to have noticed her presence. She gently placed her hand on his. He turned to her touch, and, as soon as his eyes met hers, his gaze turned soft with recognition.

A sense of guilt pinched her heart as she remembered the fears that were torturing her mind merely seconds ago. _How could she have ever doubted the man who was now looking at her with such softness and adoration?_

“It's ok”, she whispered, taking both his hands in hers. He was breathing heavily. His eyes were fixed on hers, but his mind seemed to wander somewhere far away, somewhere dark. “You're safe”. She squeezed his hands. “We're safe”. That seemed to fully bring him back.

He looked so tired, his countenance too familiar to Christine. She hadn't seen him like that since his nightmares had stopped. Or, as she realised now, since he had started keeping them secret from her. She wanted to be angry, she wanted to be mad at him for keeping her in the dark, for hiding his sufferings from her, for pretending to be fine, for feigning recovery from his trauma, for choosing to deal with his fears alone, when they had been in this hell together for so long. One look at his disheveled figure, though, made even the faintest hint of anger vanish inside her.

“How long has this been going on?” she asked, gently squeezing his hands again and channeling all the softness she could in her voice. She didn't want to come off as accusative.

He looked away, avoiding her eyes. His whole posture fell, his muscles relaxing, making him look even more exhausted. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “About a month”, he exhaled. He sounded defeated.

_Why would he hide this from her?_ All her previous doubt turned to worry. _Why would he choose to carry this burden alone?_ She pulled herself up to sit beside him on the sofa. He turned his body in order to fully face her and moved closer, his knees touching hers. She looked deep into his eyes, smiling softly, waiting for him to speak first when he felt ready.

He swallowed hard. “I can't sleep, Christine”. His voice was shaky.

The phrase hit her like a ton of bricks. Four words, four simple words and they made her heart crack. She had seen him fight a bad dream only minutes ago, but his confession brought upon her the full realisation of what had been going on. _How could she not have seen past this strong facade he had put on for her? How could she have believed that his nightmares had magically stopped when hers were still present almost every night, vivid as ever?_

She put her arms around his neck. Her earlier nightly terrors were all forgotten, her only concern now was to comfort the broken boy in front of her, just as he had done for her so many nights before.

“It's the same. Over and over”, he said, his voice shaking. “He comes at night, two skeleton hands, cold as stone, materialising through the darkness. And, suddenly, there's a red lasso around my neck, tightening, more and more, until I can't breathe anymore”. He swallowed hard, suppressing a sob. “The nocturnal air”, he continued, gesturing absentmindedly towards the window, “it helps me breathe, it brings air into my lungs, even in my dreams. It's like the breeze of the night blows my fears away”. His eyes met hers again. “That's why I come out here to sleep. You've been falling asleep so easily lately, I didn't want the cold air and the sounds of the night to disturb you, just because I can't sleep without an open window anymore”. Tears flooded his eyes.

She cupped his face and looked deep into his eyes. “It's ok”, she whispered, nodding.

“I'm sorry”, he blurted and let the salty river run from his eyes.

She pulled him into a hug, rubbed his back and let him cry. He hugged her back, clinging to her waist like dear life. And she started crying, too. And when they were both void of tears, when they'd let every emotion out, they stood still in each other's arms, silent, as the night grew old outside.

They didn't know how many hours had passed like that when they heard the early birds slowly starting to sing the world awake outside the window.

“Raoul”, she asked, her voice sleepy, “shall we go back to bed?”

He nodded, the dark circles beneath his eyes emphasising the agreement. She took him by the hand and led him to the bedroom. Only the messy covers and the absence of the vase on her nightstand hinted to the uneasiness of the outgoing night.

Christine let Raoul get comfortably settled in his side of the bed and walked to the large window. She pulled the curtains and opened the shutters just a few inches, enough to let the breeze of dawn into the room. Without a word, she walked back to the bed, smiled at her husband and snuggled close to him. She rested her head upon his chest, as he put an arm around her waist. He placed a kiss in the tangled curls on top of her head, and they fell asleep. And it was the best night's sleep they'd both had in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! I hope you liked it! Also, thank you for taking the time to leave a kudo or a comment, I really appreciate it. I would love to hear your thoughts now that the whole thing is finished. :D


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